


Lavender Bubbles

by KairouWatoshimi



Category: Hollywood U: Rising Stars
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 21:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3625431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KairouWatoshimi/pseuds/KairouWatoshimi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Delicate and subtle but long after their disappearance, their scent still lingers like a memory not wanting to be forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lavender Bubbles

**Author's Note:**

> Smut.

“Move over.”

Jane looked up and promptly squeaked. “What are you _doing?”_ she squealed, covering her eyes as she backed up against one end end of the large bathtub. “Do you have any idea how inappropriate this is?” She could feel the water of the bath shifting and splashing softly against her as Thomas climbed into the tub with her. _Oh god,_ she thought. _He’s naked!_

“Yes,” he simply replied. “Because the fact that you’re at my condo enjoying my bathtub right now isn’t inappropriate at all.”

Scowling, she dropped her hands to glare at him. Any effect that her glare _may_ have had on him was further diminished as she was sure all the blood in her body had gone to her head. She wouldn’t be surprised if her nose started squirting blood. “In my defense,” she muttered with a delicate sniff, “we don’t have baths like this in the dorms.”

“I certainly hope not,” Thomas replied from the other end of the tub, leaning his head back, allowing it to rest on the padded edge of the end of the tub and sighed. “I paid good money for this.” He groaned as the heat of the water immediately began to soothe his aching muscles.

Thankfully, the bathtub was large enough to fit the both of them but Jane wasn’t taking any chances. She brought her legs up against her chest, not wanting to accidentally touch him. Then, noticing that he wasn’t paying her much attention—usually at this point he would have said something—she tilted her head, contemplating him over a mountain of bath bubbles. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

He was silent for a moment. Then:

“I teach a bunch of imbeciles.”

 _“Ahem,”_ Jane scowled. “I happen to be one of those _imbeciles.”_

Thomas opened one eye, giving her a long, measured look. “Yes,” he finally agreed. “And you also happen to be the most annoying of them all.”

She huffed in annoyance, sending a bunch of soap foam onto her nose, tickling its sensitive underside. Sneezing from the sensation, Jane rubbed her nose and forced herself to sit up higher on the tub. Hunt chuckled softly, enjoying her unusually shy attitude. She looked up and glared but since his head was tossed back and his eyes closed once again, he didn’t notice. “Guess I’m not going to offer you my services, jerk.” She considered splashing water onto his face.

“Hm?”

Bringing her hands up from out of the water, Jane wiggled her fingers in the air, admiring them. “I was going to offer you a massage,” she told him. “I’m good with my hands.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she froze, her blush returning to stain her cheeks.

Thomas slid his eyes open and lifted his head to look at her, eyebrows raised mockingly. “I’m sure you are,” he said. Although his tone was flat, lacking any sort of humorous edge to it, Jane knew him well enough to know that he was teasing her.

“See if I give you a massage,” she grumbled, grabbing a bottle of lavender bubble bath soap.

Thomas debated with himself for a few seconds but the temptation was too great. “Are you serious about your offer?” he asked, watching her squirt soap into the tub. He narrowed his eyes. “I could have sworn that was full earlier this week.”

She shrugged, neither denying nor confirming his subtle accusation. “Why?” she asked instead. “Want a massage?” Hunt didn’t answer her, only stared expectantly. Realizing that she was never going to get a direct answer from him, she rolled her eyes and extended a hand towards his end of the bathtub. “Come over here.”

He hesitated again. Swallowing hard to gather his nerves, Thomas shifted his weight, pushing himself and slid towards her. He reminded himself that underneath the layers of purple-tinted bath bubbles, they were both well and truly naked. _Thank goodness for bubbles,_ he thought. Before he knew it, his traitorous gaze slid downwards, venturing from her face and followed a droplet of water as it trailed down her cheek, underneath her jaw line, down her neck and in between the hollow of her collarbones. And just below that—

“Close your eyes for a minute.”

Gaze snapping back up to her face, he cleared his throat uncomfortably, praying that she had not just caught him ogling her. “W-what?” he stammered.

Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she glared at him expectantly. “Close your eyes,” she repeated. “I need to get something. And turn around while you’re at it.”

“Right,” he muttered. “Turning around.” He closed his eyes and moved to obey, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He felt like an awkward teenager all over again, a feeling, he realized, that only she could pull out of him. His muscle twitched in surprise as she placed her hand on his shoulder, the course feeling of a towel brushing against his back. Thomas cringed his neck. “That better not be my towel,” he said, eyeing the material she had wrapped tightly around her form.

She batted him on the shoulder lightly before beginning to softly knead his tight muscles with surprisingly firm fingers. “Every towel is your towel,” she reminded him. “Now turn your head!”

“You know what I mean,” he grumbled but obeyed. “Oh wow,” Jane breathed. “You really are tense.”

“Of course I am,” Thomas retorted smartly. “Do you have any idea what kind of job I have?” Teaching a classroom full of imbeciles tend to have that effect on people, although, to be quite honest, Thomas was sure not all of his current tension had to do with his job.

She started off light, not wanting to hurt him as she kneaded into his tight muscles, trying to loosen them up. It was a good thing they were in a hot bath, she mused. The heat and steam from the water was doing wonders in helping. Thomas groaned at the sensation, tilting his head to one side in order to give her better access. “What the hell?” she muttered under her breath, glaring at a particularly stubborn knot of muscle.

Thomas smiled inwardly at her continuous cursing, her attention fully concentrated on the knots that were his muscles. _This_ was what he liked about her; no matter what she was doing, whether she liked it or not, Jane always gave it her all; she never bullshitted her way through anything. Except for essays, unfortunately. She had a rather unfavorable habit of pretending they don’t exist.

The combinations of the heat of the bath, sensation of her touch, and smell of the lavender soap she had so unceremoniously dumped into the water was relaxing him in ways he didn’t think was possible; she was soothing tension he didn’t even know existed. _If she wasn’t aiming to be a celebrity,_ Thomas thought hazily. _She would certainly make a good masseuse._ He would pay good money for hands like hers. Exhaling softly in contentment, he turned slowly, almost not noticing his own movements as he leaned forward and rested his arms on the edge of the tub.

“Hey,” she protested.

His eyes snapped open as she leaned into him, shifting her position so that she was directly behind him again. _Wasn’t the towel thicker before?_ he wondered, swallowing hard. He had brought this on himself; the contrast between the course surface of the towel contrasted against and made the smooth skin of the top of her breasts stand out even more. Thomas groaned softly at the feeling. _I’m too old to go through puberty again,_ he thought mournfully.

“Okay, moving on,” she chirped. Thankfully, Jane appeared to not notice what he was thinking. Reaching past him, she grabbed a bottle he was not familiar with from a nearby counter.

“What is that?” he asked.

“Massage oil,” she answered, pouring a thin trail of it onto the back of his shoulders. “It’s eucalyptus spearmint, it’s supposed to soothe your muscles.” She rubbed the slick liquid around the top of his back and over his broad shoulders. “I also have lavender vanilla oil but that’s for relaxing.”

“I also do need to be relaxed,” he moaned, his voice muffled by his arm. Her hands were working some serious magic into him. “I may just marry you.”

“How romantic,” Jane quipped dryly. “I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

He hummed. “I don’t,” he responded. “But your hands are exquisite.”

 _Drama queen,_ Jane thought, rolling her eyes. No wonder he had such a huge bastard of a persona; no one would take him seriously if he went out as he was. “Haven’t you ever been massaged before?”

“Not like this.”

His voice was soft and soothing, something she didn’t know it was actually capable of being. She leaned forward and took a peek at his face.

“Thomas?” she whispered.

“Hmm?"

Jane noticed that it was mostly a reflex response; he appeared to be half asleep. _Ooh,_ the possibilities. Fortunately for him, she was not evil enough to actually _do_ something while he was naked and vulnerable. Besides, _she_ was currently naked and vulnerable. She continued kneading his firm flesh, wanting to completely relax him but also marveling at the feeling of his broad shoulders underneath her fingertips.

It was only until the water really cooled did she decided it was time to wake him up and if he so desired, continue his massage session on his bed or something. Jane poked him on the shoulder but Thomas only mumbled incoherently in response, reaching out in an attempt to bat her hand away.

She grinned, he was absolutely adorable! And would probably kill her if he realized what she was thinking. “Thomas,” she called out louder, reaching out again to shake his shoulder. “The water’s going cold and while I’m completely fine with you drowning in your own bathtub, I’m a bit afraid you might actually haunt me after your death.” Truth to be told, Jane didn’t actually believe in ghosts but he was an ass like that and she could totally see him breaking the laws of reality just to make her suffer.

Seeing that he was not going to be waking up anytime soon, Jane decided that she should at least get out of the bathtub first and then go from there. She unwrapped the towel from around her, abandoned it and letting it sink into the tub before climbing out of the lukewarm water. Toes wiggling happily as she sunk into the thick, plush rug covering the bathroom floor, Jane reached over and grabbed another towel which she threw over her head. Toweling off her hair with one hand, she grabbed a spare bathrobe from its hanger with the other.

When she was finally set—the robe tied snugly around her—Jane made her way back to him and knelt down in front. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” she said, poking his cheek. “It’s time to wake up.”

His brows furrowed at her touch and with a fond smile, Jane ran a finger between his eyebrows, smoothing out the crinkle. With all the frowning and glaring he did, it was amazing how he didn’t have permanent wrinkles etched into his flesh. For a minute she continued, running a single finger up and down between his eyebrows and then considered pinching his cheek, just to see if he would wake up. Jane knew Thomas wasn’t a morning person but she never thought he would be a hard person to wake up.

“Professor,” she sang softly, dragging out the vowels as she poked him again.

Eyelids fluttering slightly, Thomas felt Jane’s finger still as she noticed that he was waking up. He opened his eyes lazily, watching her blink down at him, a small, gentle smile playing across her lips. For a moment, his breath caught in his throat then he murmured her name in a gentle manner he didn’t even know he possessed.

Jane’s own brows furrowed, unsure what to make of the unfamiliar warmth behind his gaze. She had never seen him look so open and vulnerable before. And he was looking at her with such tenderness, she felt her very heart twinge despite herself. Swallowing hard, Jane watched from the corner of her eyes with baited breath as he raised a hand and rested it on her cheek. She sighed softly and leaned into his touch as he slowly guided her towards him.

Their lips met softly, almost hesitantly; he kissed her gently at first, coaxing her into responding with his every movement. While they have kissed before in the past, even Jane, as inexperience and new to this kind of relationship as she was, knew there was something different about this particular kiss. She could feel his electrifying emotions behind the kiss from the tip of her tongue to the very bottom of her toes.

A soft, whimpering noise escaped her and Jane pressed herself further towards him wanting to feel and drown in everything that was Thomas Hunt. His kisses, gentle but firm, was overwhelming. Pulses of heat and emotions were shot through her body until she thought she was going to pass out from the sheer intensity of it all.

“Jane,” he breathed again, his voice soft and yearning and making her _want._ “Jane.” And again, and again, and again until she was pressing herself so tightly against him, it was as if they could merge and become one. Her hands, inexperienced but curious went everywhere, sliding down his strong, broad shoulders to his firm chest and then back up again.

Their kiss was turning desperate now, nipping and suckling at each other until they were both panting for breath. She whispered his name like a prayer, chest heaving. Jane whimpered again as he pushed himself upwards until he was looming over her, dominating over her smaller figure and sending her quivering with his rough, almost desperate kisses. He shifted his weight, and with agility she didn’t know he possessed, climbed over the tub to kneel down by her in a single, fluid motion.

“This isn’t a dream, is it?” he breathed against her lips, voice low and husky with desire.

The implication of his words sent a new wave of heat through her, washing away all her nervousness and any remaining doubt. He wanted her, she realized and leaned upwards so she could kiss him—

_He wanted her._

—and touch him.

_He wanted her._

—and she wanted him. _Oh gods,_ did she wanted him.

“That depends,” she replied, breathless with emotion, “do you usually dream of me?”

Thomas growled low in his and pressed his full weight against her until she could feel just about _everything_ from the erratic beating of his heart to the hard erection press up against her stomach. Giving her no time to take in this new development, he groaned out a, “Gods, yes,” just before dipping his head so he could recapture her lips.

She shuddered at his words and splayed a hand across his bare chest, enjoying the feeling of the pounding of his heart. “Lucky me,” she murmured, trying to think through the haze that was her mind.

Thomas pulled back and looked down at her, lips quirking upwards just the slightest. _Definitely not a dream,_ he thought, trailing the tip of his nose lightly down the length of her neck as he nipped and sucked at her delicate skin. She was definitely lot less cheekier and talkative in his dreams.

He continued downwards, swirling the flat and tip of his tongue across her skin, bypassing the bitter taste of lavender soap she had yet to wash off. He nibbled and sucked until all he could taste was Jane. Slowly, he pushed her backwards until she was laying down on the carpeted floor with her long hair spread out beneath her like a halo. Still sucking on the skin of her neck, Thomas reached downwards and tugged at the ties of her robe until they loosened.

Jane was breathing audibly now and he pulled back so he could look at her as he parted her robes, exposing her naked body to his usually critical eye. But now, chest heaving, face flushed, she was nothing less than perfection. He realized with sudden clarity that this side of Jane was something only he had ever brought out.

And he wanted to be the _only_ one to ever bring it out.

He reached out and traced an invisible path on her skin with slightly calloused fingers. Pressing down on the smooth swell of his breast, he caught the aching point of her nipple between two fingers and rolled the hardened nub.

Jane gasped at his touch, eyes fluttering open to look at him. She looked so young, so vulnerable and for a brief second, Thomas felt himself panic but she was looking up at him with such intensity that he could not help but lean down and kiss her again. Burning lips pressed upon burning lips until all he could feel, all he could see, all he knew was Jane, Jane, and Jane. “Tell me to stop,” he told her as he reached up and over her head, fumbled for the handle of a drawer on the nearby counter.

Thomas watched as she licked her lips, tilting her head backwards and eyes flickering to the small condom package he was pulling out from the drawer. He kissed her exposed neck and trailed his hand down the smooth plane of her body before resting it on the curve of her hip. “Never,” she said with a throaty moan, the sound creating a soft vibration under his sensitive lips.

“The things I’m going to do to you,” he murmured in a low, rough voice he knew she liked. He slipped his hand between her legs and ran his index and middle finger up against her wet seam. Jane inhaled sharply, her hands fisting at the plush rug beneath her. Thomas breathed out slowly between clenched teeth and slid two fingers through her moistened flesh and began pumping them in a steady rhythm.

Her back arched and she let out a high-pitched whine which turned into a a breathless, “Oh, _fuck!”_ as he rubbed his thumb against the sensitive knot of her clitoris.

“Language, language,” he murmured, resuming the slow pace of his fingers moving in and out of her body.

 _“Fuck you,”_ she grunted out in animistic, guttural voice he did not know she was capable of.

Jane was seeing stars. It was the only way of describing the experience. She was but a bundle of nerves and he—bastard that he was—was using it to his full advantage. Fingers pumping deliciously into her body, he was sending her flying higher and higher until she felt like she was above the clouds.

And just when Jane thought it couldn’t get any better, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, which slid between her folds. “Oh!” she gasped, the foreign feeling of his tongue on her body making her jump.

Two hands clamped down on her thighs, keeping her in her place as he swirled and flicked his tongue expertly within her. She stuffed a knuckle into her mouth, muffling any sound as he sucked, licked, and nipped her sensitive flesh until she was squirming and grinding against his face, seeking release because it was too much—too much.

And she was going to drown—

_—in heat, in pleasure—_

—but Jane was happy to drown.

Thomas swirled his tongue around her again before pulling out just the slightest so he could flick his tongue around her clitoris—once—twice—

And she shuddered around him, a sharp cry following her release and he dipped two fingers back into her. He pumped slowly, riding out her orgasm as he rocked against the involuntary spasms and shivers of her body. Thomas pressed kisses against the insides of her quivering thighs, slowly making his way back up her body and waited for her breathing to return to normal.

She hummed deep in her throat and reached for him, pressing open-mouthed kisses against him even as she smelled the sweet, husky scent of herself drying on his face. He exhaled deeply, ignoring the throbbing call of his own body as she licked her lips and shifted their positions so that he was sprawled on the rug and she was looming over him.

Thomas propped himself onto his elbows and just watched her; his eyes hooded with arousal. She raked her gaze down his form, trembling slightly because for the first time since this relationship started, she had _power._ Power because he was exposing himself to her. Power because he was giving her freedom with his body no one else possessed. But what Jane didn’t know was that she _always_ had that power.

_Always—_

Then, her curious hands was suddenly _everywhere;_ running across the line of his jaw, roaming over the curve of his shoulder, down the smooth plane of his chest. She scrapped blunt nails lightly over his nipple causing him to jerk at the jolt of pleasure shot through him. Her eyes lit up at his reaction and she caught his gaze for a brief second. Then she flashed him a grin and leaned down, flicking her tongue over nipple. He exhaled sharply at the sensation, a whistling sound escaping his clenched teeth.

Jane grinned against his skin, parted her lips and suckled slightly, enjoying his subtle tremors underneath her touch. She pressed a final kiss to his chest and then moved lower, continuing on her exploration and finally— _finally—_ paused when she reached his straining erection. She took a deep breath and wrapped a hand around his width and Thomas had to force himself to remain as still as possible because he was so hard, he _burned._

_—burning, blazing, flaming heat—_

He squeezed his eyes shut, giving into her soft and curious touches as her fingers danced across his sensitive flesh. Thomas didn’t think he could look at her and maintain the wavering control he had over his body. She was right _there_ and Thomas wanted nothing more than to pull her body onto his and shove himself into her warm—

 _“Fuck!”_ The flat of her tongue swirling around the head of his erection as she gave him an experimental lick caught him by surprise. His eyes snapped open and he looked down at her, trembling in her hold because he wanted—

He wanted—

Jane grinned. “Language, Professor. Language,” she teased, humming against his throbbing length.

She moved to take him into her mouth but he was faster. Shoving a hand into her hair, he held her firmly in place, careful not to pull. “No,” he told her.

She breathed out slowly, warm breath tickling him. “Next time?” she asked.

 _“Yess,”_ he moaned and pulled her back up towards him so he could kiss her hard on the mouth. “Next time.”

Rolling them over so that she was once again spread out beneath him, he picked up the condom he had abandoned on the floor earlier. He tore it open with his teeth, relishing the feeling of her body pressed up against his own. Layering kisses after kisses on her exposed skin, he wrestled the condom out of the package with a single hand and slipped it on. Jane responded beautifully against him, hands reaching out to grip his shoulder as she threw a leg over his hip.

She was wet and aching and ready.

He groaned at her willingness and obvious desire before lowering himself into her with such agonizing slowness that she shuddered against him, angling her hips, seeking for him to fill the emptiness within her. But he was moving slowly—so slowly. So when he was finally completely sheathed within her wet warmth, her world froze and melted away because there was _nothing—_

—except for the heat of his body above her.

—except for the almost painful hum of pleasure streaming through them.

Nothing, nothing, _nothing—_

—except for her and him and—

Then he was moving within her. The uncomfortable ache within her eased away as she adjusted to him, bit by bit with his every slow push forward and even slower pull backwards. Breathing heavily, she wiggled her hips in an attempt to further familiarize herself with the feeling of him inside her—of him _moving_ within her.

And he groaned her name, praying against all odds that she would stop being so damn curious for a second so he could gather his wits around him. She felt so good— _so good_ —and he wanted to surrender himself to his animistic instincts so he could just _pound_ into her. But he looked down at her and she was flushed, her face twisted in pleasure and she was just so damn beautiful, like his own personal goddess and he wanted nothing more than to worship her.

Worship her, indeed.

“My name,” he breathed, lowering himself until he was inhaling her every exhale. “Say my name.”

She looked at him then, blinking slowly as she took in his words. She grinned, mouthing his name against his lips, teasing him and refusing to do as he said. Jane tightened her legs around his waist, forcing him deeper into her and clenched around him until he was panting from the intensity and any control he had left snapped. He groaned and buried his face into the crook of her neck, drinking in her scent and rocked his hips against her own.

Jane cried out, angling her hips and trying to meet his rhythm.

Breathing heavily, Thomas pulled himself back up, increasing his tempo and the strength behind his every thrust. Her muscles were clenching around him and he had to tightened his grip around her waist in an attempt to hold himself back because he was so close _—so close._

He bit down hard on her shoulder, careful not to break skin and she flexed her fingers, nails pressing harshly against his skin as she ran her hands around his body, his shoulders, his arms, his back.

Pain melted into pleasure and pleasure melted into pain and neither wasn’t sure which was which but that didn’t mattered.

 _Nothing_ mattered—

_—except—_

“Oh!” she gasped as he hit that one spot within her. Jane made a high pitched sort of moan as she clenched her muscles as tight as she could. Somewhere in her hazy mind, she figured that if she was going to break, she was going to break him along with her because this was too much, he was too much. She was dying, dying, _dying._

Her inner muscles rippled around him and he let out a string of curses in a language she was not familiar with. The ruthlessness of her muscles closed in on him, sending a wave of pleasure he thought he already knew. Thomas drew backwards, pulling himself upwards and lifted her hips so he could pound into her with speed and force he could not before. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, echoing, interrupted only by their soft grunts and groans.

She cried out again suddenly, arms flailing backwards—hands no longer being able to reach his shoulders—as she grabbed a hold of anything she could. He was relentless, pounding into her in a way he knew she could handle.

_“Thomas!”_

His name from her lips was his undoing.

His world shattered around him and he thrust his pelvis into her one last time before losing himself into her, pouring out all his emotions, his feelings, his thoughts, his _everything._ He could still hear the echoes of his shattering world as he came down on her, knowing that she would be able to support his full weight.

Jane sighed contently and opened her arms, welcoming him into an embrace, warm and tender and smelling like lavender and Jane. He closed his eyes and gave into her, feeling happy and sated and _complete_ which was strange—so strange—since he didn’t think he was missing anything in the first place.

For a moment, they laid together in silence—or as silent as they could be as they attempted to get their breaths under control—before Thomas finally rolled off her, pulling out his deflating length, twisting her body as he went so they laid facing each other. He reached down lazily, pulled the condom off and tied a knot at the end with practiced ease before setting it to the side. “Next time,” he told her, still slightly out of breath. “We do it on the bed. I’m getting too old for this.”

She nodded seriously. “I would hate for you to break your back.”

Thomas resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Jane smiled, looking happy and beautiful in a way that warmed his heart because he knew he was the one that caused it. She snuggled up against him, pressing the tip of her nose to the hollow of his throat. “That was good,” she murmured. _“Very_ good.”

“Of course it was,” he immediately replied. “Did you expect anything less?”

She pulled back and glared at him, gaze hardening. “I thought men get dumber after sex.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow, enjoying the afterglow of their love-making that only they could pull off. He could not—nor did he want to—see himself bantering with anyone else so familiarly without any sort of awkwardness after a round of sex he felt as if he had just poured his _soul_ into. “Where did you hear that?”

“You just turn into more of an asshole!” she accused, completely ignoring his question.

He hummed in agreement.

“We should go to bed,” Jane whispered. “The rug’s very comfortable and all but I think the bed will be even more so.” She wrinkled her nose as she moved to sit up, a dull ache humming through the lower half of her body. “I want to take a shower first but I don’t think I can stay standing for long.”

He chuckled. “You go ahead; I have to clean myself up.”

She turned and raised an amused eyebrow. “Are you that spent? Should I princess carry you to the bedroom?”

It was his turn to glare at her. “I’ll princess carry myself, thank you.”

She laughed. His gaze softened at the sound and he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and smelling the lavender that lingered in the air around them. He felt as if he could live in this moment with her forever.

**Author's Note:**

> That’s it. I’m done. No more sex scenes. Virgin!Sex, descriptive passion, and emotions are the hardest for me to write and my friend managed to combine it all into a bastard of a prompt.


End file.
